Since Marjorie’s return from Italy, she has taken over the marital bed, and I sleep on the chaise lounge. Which is pretty grim.
So it’s little wonder I turn to Mary for comfort.
(Once she’s put the kids to bed)
But one night as I make my way down to the kitchen (where Mary sleeps):
“Oh Papa! Where are you going?”
Lavinia was standing there.
“Just to get a drink of water, Petal-Pie”, I tell her
“But Papa! You make such a noise down there. And why do Mary’s bedsprings creak so?”
Her painted blue eyes full of uncertainty and doubt.
“She has bad dreams, my pet. I have to comfort her”
Despite it being the other way round, it was true in a sense.
Lav eventually went to bed, but with great misgivings.
And I went too – to Mary’s bed, that is.
I’m sure I could almost love Mary – if only she put down that fucking cake!
Next installment, Lavinia finds out about love for herself, and Marjorie is a bitch
Part Three, same time, same channel